


change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold

by applejwoos (kenmarcadeblues)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Christmas, Crying, Cute, Deception, Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, OT7 NCT Dream, One Shot, Park Jisung (NCT)-centric, Slice of Life, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, but it’s out of love. you will see, markren crumbs for my Friends, sprinkles of gen z language, this fic is like a fruitcake except hopefully more appealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmarcadeblues/pseuds/applejwoos
Summary: The nights that Jisung would recall his list of good things in order to sleep are all behind him. The list has grown so much that he can feel it all the time.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Lee Donghyuck & Lee Jeno & Mark Lee & Na Jaemin & Park Jisung & Zhong Chen Le, Park Jisung (NCT) & Everyone
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes I wrote this for an amino thingie & it’s my first time focusing on the dreamies! i had fun!! but uh yeah y’all already know why I chose them...:’) 
> 
> happy late holidays and happy 2020 guys ❤️

The fireplace in the common room of the Ravenclaw dorms cast a warm glow over the various perplexed expressions directed at Chenle. 

Renjun was the first to speak; a mumbled, “Interesting,” while staring through Chenle like the third year was a castle ghost. Chenle just smiled at the concentrated Ravenclaw. Sure, his plan was out there, but it could work if given due thought and consideration. 

“You sure about this?” Jaemin questioned. He leaned forward in his seat, eyes wide and amused. “It’s a deal devious, Lele. Your Slytherin cusp is showing.” 

Beside Jaemin, Chenle’s house-mate fiddled with the yellow-striped tie of his uniform. “Isn’t it a bit much?” Jeno asked tentatively. “I reckon he may...cry.”

“Oh, he’ll cry, all right,” Donghyuck said, a sunny smile spread across his cheeks. “And what a time it’ll be!” This brought him a snort and a shoulder-thwack from Renjun. 

“For him or for _you?”_ Jeno huffed at the two.

“For us all...maybe,” Jaemin tried. “Yeah, Lele?” Chenle nodded at him. 

Then all the boys fell quiet and still, thinking. Wood crackled as it burned, turned to ash, and respawned in the flames. They looked to the one Gryffindor present at the moment. “Mark Lee,” Chenle addressed, as if the older’s first and family names were one word, “what d’you think? Yay or nay?” 

“Eh, what—why me?” Mark sputtered. “I thought I _‘didn’t have rights’?_ ” He tried to quote his friends but the phrase fit all wrong in his mouth, moved clumsily along thin lips. Donghyuck imagined Mark as a senior citizen, grey-haired and desperate to stay hip, and promptly lost it. Soon, no one could hold their laughter—not even Mark himself. 

As Donghyuck’s hyena antics died down and everyone sobered up again, Renjun sighed fondly at Mark. “As true as that is, you’re still our leader.”

“Leader? Since when?”

Donghyuck had a hunch that no one else was going to answer, and knowing Mark, the question wasn’t rhetorical. He took it upon himself to be of service. “ _Since forever!_ C’mon, bruv, keep up!” 

When Mark finished glaring at Donghyuck, Chenle’s hopeful gaze was waiting for him. “So?” asked the young Hufflepuff. 

Still dizzy with his power—or lack of it—or the speaking-aloud of the dynamic that had existed always, the naming of _since forever_ —Mark shrugged. “Well, I suppose we could give it a go.”

Chenle cried out in a fit of excitement. The other boys cringed at the assault on their ears, and yet they loved him all the more for it. 

  
  
***  
  
  
  


Jisung Park wants to stay in bed because he’s tired. He’s getting to be a teenager and everyone knows that teens need more sleep. He is not moping, thank you very much. _Absolutely not._

He isn’t moping because he has no right to. Even at 12 years old, he’s aware of this. 

He doesn’t remember a time before Hogwarts. It’s a purposeful and tedious unremembering, though. There were 11 years before and he’d felt them all. 11 instead of 10 not because his birthday is early, but because Jisung is a muggleborn whose parents have strong delusions, many of them against Jisung and magic and some of them against the best wizarding school in the world, and went as far as hiring a witch or two to conceal their son’s existence. It took about 4 months after students born in 2002 started in the autumn, but Hogwarts managed to track down Jisung Park. 

Those 11 years had given him so few good things; now, he has many. Some of them are in this room. 

To his left, a pristinely translucent Remembrall from Renjun sits on top of his bedside cabinet, its band of metal glinting in bits of 8am sunlight. _It’s a must-have, trust me._

Inside this cabinet’s top drawer, among other stationery, rests a no-spill Raven’s feather quill from Jaemin. _I worry about your “lucky” hands getting your grades down. Now I’ll sleep easy._ An as of yet unopened chocolate frog from Donghyuck guards the second drawer’s contents. The bottommost drawer of Jisung’s bedside cabinet contains, hidden under Jeno’s generous offering of a wizard chess set, a daydream charm—bought by his only friend that can legally do so: 15 year old Mark. 

And to the right of him stands a wardrobe too spacious for such a minimalist lifestyle as his, and Jisung knows the handknit woolen jumper courtesy of Chenle’s mum is folded inside as he’d left it. 

Other good things are, in fact, not in here. Case in point: the ones returning home for the winter holiday. 

Jisung never had any intention of celebrating Christmas anywhere except Hogwarts, but he gets that not everyone is like him. It’s only natural to want to visit your family if they’re kind and decent. _Of course they’re allowed to leave._

Energetic footsteps enter the second year dormitory and Jisung reflexively ducks under his blankets. “Jisungie, get your sleepy bum up!” Mark calls out with abandon. He’s embarrassing and (horribly) cutesy, but at least all the other young Gryfindor boys have gone out already. Nonetheless, Jisung still groans. 

“Oi, I’m talking to you, Jisung Park!” Mark’s voice is right above him now. Slowly, Jisung peeks his head out and meets the older boy’s eyes. And then Mark’s goofy smile fades. “What’s up? You’re not feeling unwell...unless?” he inquires softly, taking a hand to Jisung’s forehead. 

Jisung blinks hard, but doesn’t squirm. “No, no, I’m fine. Just blooming tired,” he says easily—trusting that if he says it aloud, it’ll harden into truth. 

Mark hums while stepping back, although it’s clear he’d rather continue to examine Jisung. “Well, get ready quick, yeah? Time is of the essence today. I’ll be back in twenty.” Mark has a rather laid-back personality but doesn’t mess around when it comes to schedules. If there’s a timetable, he stays the course and means business. 

So Jisung takes a shower that might be better described as a rinse and puts on a collared shirt and jeans. To round out the outfit, he pulls his newest jumper over it all. The huge blue “J” down his chest sends a meek giddiness through him the longer he gazes at it. Nowadays, half of each letter that Chenle receives from home asks after Jisung, wishes him well, and ponders when he’ll _finally_ visit. 

Parents think about him. And care. Not his own parents, but, hey—it’s something, right?

_Another for his list of good things._

He smiles at himself in the mirror and wonders when happiness stopped looking so out of place on his face. 

  
  
  
  


It seems as if Jisung and Mark only just traipse into the Great Hall, not fully processing the chaos of the buzzing sea of non-uniformed, inter-house minglers that are their schoolmates, before their ears turn as red as the berries of holly vines (which, they’ll later notice, are currently growing out of thin air in various clumps near the walls and Christmas regalia). 

The reason? Chenle Zhong, possibly the one wizard on earth for whom _sonorous_ —a charm which raises one’s voice—will never be useful. “JISUNG, MARK LEE, OVER HERE!” he screeches while waving both hands, his blond waves bouncing with exuberance as he does. He’s standing at the fourth table down, which seats only Slytherin kids on normal days. But because today is the official last day of first term, all members of _the squad_ (as Jaemin likes to say) are able to eat together. 

Jisung tucks himself into the empty space next to Chenle. They’re both wearing jumpers made by Mrs. Zhong, and the matching designs and coordinating color combinations of grassy green-sky blue and sky blue-grassy green make it look like the two boys are dolls from the same playset. Any rebuttal argument Jaemin had ready for the extremely important discussion he’s in the middle of having with Jeno, Renjun, and Donghyuck (on whether David Blaine could be a wizard living amongst Muggles) is knocked from his mind as soon as he gets an eyeful of Jisung and Chenle.

“C and J. What the hell, that’s so cute!” he coos. If these grandiose redwood tables were any smaller, he’d be pinching their little cheeks right now. 

Donghyuck swallows a bite of cheese toastie and nods in agreement. “Soft hours open,” he declares.

Jisung blushes out a small, “Thanks” at the same time that Chenle says, “I know, right?”

“They look warm,” remarks Renjun, resident human with questionable blood circulation. “Any chance I could get one? I thought your mum liked me, too?” 

Chenle twirls a currently empty spoon in his hand. “That she does, though I’m not sure why.” Renjun flashes him the finger. “If you’re for real, I guess I can ask.”

“In that case, uh,” Jeno pipes up, leaning toward Chenle, “what about your good ol’ housemate Jeno?” His eyes are doing their special _smile thing_ and anyone can see it’s on purpose. 

Chenle pretends to think. “Nah,” he concludes. 

Jeno makes a tiny, confused noise ( _heugh?)_ before following up with: “Why? What gives?”

“First off, I hate people who talk in the third person.”

“Rude, I— “

“Secondly,” Chenle continues, speaking over the Hufflepuff one year his senior, “my poor mummy already did a ‘J’ jumper. I won’t let you exploit her. Merry Christmas!”

Unsurprisingly, this causes Mark to choke on his hot cider. (He doesn’t die, solely because Renjun slaps the soul out of his back while caught up in the throes of laughter.) 

  
  
  
  


If only Jisung were a time-traveler instead of a wizard. Maybe then he could go back to the beginning of the school year in September, or skip over these next few weeks. 

This is the moment Jisung has been dreading. 

All seven of them are gathered in the Viaduct courtyard, just outside the entrance to Hogwarts. Snowflakes have started to flurry past their pink-tinged cheeks and gather on their hats and scarves. Everyone has luggage with them except Jisung. 

He has his back to the school and regards his friends carefully, taking in the particulars of each, then all six at once, with old stone structures and white-covered hills as a backdrop. 

It feels like the six of them have been in Jisung’s life _since forever_ , but in reality, it has only been three terms. That’s all.

And yet, it’s enough. Enough for six houses to be built in Jisung’s heart, a place once suspected to be uninhabitable.

In the beginning there was Mark Lee, who had taken Jisung under his wing immediately that first (well, for Jisung anyway) term before Easter break. And then came Donghyuck Lee, who was Mark’s long-time best friend; and he was buddies with Jaemin Na, who was getting close with Jeno Lee, who was fond of Chenle Zhong, who liked “bothering” Renjun Huang. 

All of their goodbyes aren’t goodbyes, just _see-you-in-a-bit_ ’s. All of their hugs feel like a little breath of summer. 

“I’ll miss you so much.” Part of Jisung wants to add how boring, colorless, and lonely staying at school will be without them— _there isn’t even classes and homework to distract me, oh my god_ —but he doesn’t think that’s right. _Absolutely not._ Instead, he checks his wristwatch. 10:35. They only have 25 minutes to get to the train station, board the Hogwarts Express, and get sorted. “Hurry along, don’t miss the train for me.”

Nobody moves. 

“We’re not going,” Renjun deadpans.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, we’re not,” Chenle insists. “We’re staying.”

“Guys. You’ve got to go, your families are expecting you,” Jisung tells them, and the lack of concern on their faces drives him half-frantic. “You can’t disappoint them just like that. You can’t.” He has extensive knowledge about being a disappointment. (Spoiler alert: it sucks. It hurts you somewhere deep down and the wounds aren’t easily healed because they’re barely recognizable.) He wouldn’t wish it on anyone; his friends, most of all. _Of course they’re allowed to leave._

“You’re wrong. We told them we’re not coming and they’re not expecting us at all,” Jeno soothes. He’s usually a pathetic liar, but either he’s gotten lessons from Donghyuck...

...or that isn’t a lie. 

Jisung is vaguely aware of blurriness intruding on his vision. “What? You’re serious? But...”

There’s a sudden symphony of zippers and clips (as well as a couple instances of _alohomora_ ) as six boys move to open their bags...which are all stunningly empty. Jisung’s eyes nearly pop out of his head upon seeing that Mark’s 3 foot tall luggage case doesn’t have a thing in it—he has been in Mark’s dorm almost daily and saw that his designated area was cleared out. This doesn’t make any sense. 

Able to guess at Jisung’s unspoken dumbfoundedness, Mark simply grins. “Moved all my things to Hyuck’s, and now the Slytherins think I’m _‘moving in’_ ,” he explains with a laugh. 

“Well,” Donghyuck purrs, settling a hand on Mark’s left shoulder, “aren’t you?” He’s quickly shrugged off.

“Never.”

Almost in a practiced motion, Renjun slips his arm through Mark’s right one and hooks it proudly. “Right, because you’re actually moving in with _me_.”

Mark giggles uncomfortably in that way he does when he’s so flustered, he could black out. The heat in his cheeks, his ears—his whole face, really—would be able to adequately heat a cauldron. “In your wildest dreams, m-maybe,” he manages to retort as he gently pushes Renjun away. 

And Jisung wants to laugh in relief, in joy, in contentment; because all his moping was for nothing and this is going to be the best holiday he’s ever had and he loves the twits in front of him more than anything in all the world. 

Except his body betrays him. He cries, and it’s not just one or two tears. He thinks he hears Donghyuck remark lowly, “Told you so.”

Chenle is afraid to look directly at Jisung. He steps toward him anxiously. “This was my idea, to trick you—but I did it ‘cause I love you, so if you hate me for it, just know that—“ 

He physically can’t continue to ramble because his face is pressed somewhere between Jisung’s neck and shoulder, a familiar wool roughing up his cheeks. 

“I don’t think I c-could ever hate y-you,” Jisung hiccups. He squeezes Chenle tight and then lets go. He wipes at his eyes using his scratchy sweater sleeve and regrets it. Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Mark, and Donghyuck receive a wet, wobbly smile. “You’re all the best f-friends I could ever h-have. Can’t b-believe you’d d-do me like this, but I’m so happy.”

Jeno not-so-subtly bumps shoulders with Jaemin, who thereafter has a lightbulb go off in his head. “Oh! Yeah! Jisungie, you have one last Christmas present, from all us _besties_.” He takes his wand out of his coat pocket and shuts his eyes. “ _Accio_ squad photo!” he says boldly. He waits, unmoving, with his wand pointed up toward Slytherin Tower and his free hand open in front of him. Seconds later, Jisung spots an object flying towards them. 

It gets larger, larger, larger, until its sharp corners and flat dimensions can be determined. Then dark brown edges, multicolored middle. 

A picture frame lands in Jaemin’s palm, and he seizes on it with a smile. “Yes! Here it is!” He shoves it into Jisung’s hands.

“Show off,” Renjun mumbles.

Jisung had ceased crying to admire Jaemin’s superior spell-casting skills, but now he is shaking like a leaf in a storm, and his eyes have become rain clouds once again. His last present is an enchanted photo, a moment on loop until the end of time: all seven of them in a hallway posing bizarrely and teasing one another. Jaemin had seen Johnny, an older prefect in his house, walking past and implored him to take it. It had been a school day like any other, but Jaemin insists on capturing anything and everything about life. Here, Jaemin (and Johnny) had captured Jisung’s favorite part of getting a wizarding education. 

“C’mere, kid,” Jaemin says tenderly, then promptly pulls Jisung into a hug. “It’s okay to cry, yeah?” He pats Jisung as if he might shatter, and for some reason that makes Jisung cry even harder. “You feel a lot, I know. Our sensitive baby. Let it all out…”

One by one, everyone joins in to embrace the youngest boy, and each other, in a group hug. 

Jisung gives up trying to wipe his eyes and wonders when his list of good things got too lengthy to recall before bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> things i did for this fic:  
> 1) open way too many hp wikis  
> 2) rewatch bananamilk sorting dream into their houses  
> [EDIT: i don’t support this youtuber anymore or like them as a person but their vid was convenient at the time bc i wanted someone else to do the thinking for me!]   
> 3) get a Brit to proofread


End file.
